Mafiatalia
by Kitskune Miyake
Summary: Gangster!AU. Several OCs. Follow the story of the Underground as three gangs fight for dominance as the Government tries to keep everything in its grasp. That's what you get for messing with the Mafia. Forgive me for I know not what I write about!


A/N: Hey, readers! Guess who's back? Anyways, this stories gonna be seriously stretched out, and it will take forever to update. Might edit once finished.

Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.

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"—_Any girl that isn't me today_," the performer trilled. While he may have been the stereotypical American, he loved a good musical, and West Side Story was definitely his favorite. He hummed the tune to himself, tapping the rhythm out on the armrest. For the moment, Alfred F. Jones, Vice President of Pangea, was at peace with the world. He took a sip of champagne from his flute, and let himself smile, if only for a while. He glanced at the Swede next to him. As always, he was stoic and serious, as if he was in another Congressional meeting.

_How the two of us became friends, I'll never know_ the smiling American thought. The two had started out as middle school enemies before sorting out their differences in high school. Despite being polar opposites, they sought each other's company frequently. After receiving their degrees in college, they decided to run for office. Alfred became governor of New York, an area populated mostly by Americans, while Sweden worked to become CEO of Blue Skies Across Pangea, which worked with alternative energies. Somehow, their chaotic futures brought them together again, and they decided to be political partners. Five elections later, they finally won.

Running a massive super continent was difficult already, but three gangs had sprung up among the spirits of former nations. After the continents had collided, and the wars had fought themselves out, what was left of the citizens made their way to North America, which was in the best condition of the continents. There, the remaining citizens settled, and all the countries were dissolved to create five new superpowers, simply called East, West, North, South, and Pangea. It pained Alfred to see his former allies turn against him only hurt innocent civilians. And all for what? Dominance? Power among gangs was rare to last long. He tried talking Britain, his nearest and dearest friend, into just ditching the whole thing.

"This was your idea," Arthur had said coldly. "You were the one who said 'Survival of the fittest.'" America had cried for two hours over the loss of his friend to the dark side.

It didn't mater now. There were still good nations out there. Lithuania was a big help in keeping the gangs under tabs. Moreover, the head of the CIA, whoever he or she is, was getting good intel. It was annoying for the own Vice President not to know who was employed in such an important position. Nevertheless, Sweden said that it was all for the sake of Operation INTEL. And he didn't need Britain. He had better friends, like the Swede sitting next to him

Alfred, finally at peace with himself, let himself relax. That's when everything went horribly wrong. He was knocked to the ground, thoroughly stunned at why Sweden had knocked him to the ground. By the time he figured it out, it was too late. Secret Service members appeared from the shadows. Messages were traded, and the White House, which was still used as a political center, was alerted.

Two hours later, the FBI was contacted; the Russian Mafia claimed total responsibility for the assassination of the president. Alfred tore out a tuft of thinning hair. He was sick and tired of their stupid game. The Soviets, with their straightforward attacks; the Asians and their slippery leader, Wang "China" Yao; and the Euros. Those damned Euros had been inactive for nearly a month, something that frustrated the hell out of Alfred. He had no idea what they were planning to do, and the worst part was that he only had three names of gang members. Wang Yao, Ivan Braginski, and Romano Vargas. It was of no use that he knew their names when they had disappeared off the map ten months ago.

There was no time to waste. As soon as morning graced the horizon, Alfred was inaugurated in a quick, hasty ceremony. Sitting in the Oval Office was strange for the new President of Pangaea. The office was so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat. It was scary how empty this memorable room was. This was where he and Sweden had forged so many memories. And for him to die…was to die with all those memories. Now, this room was only another office Alfred had to work at. He sat behind the desk and closed his eyes, letting memories of a past life swim around in his head.

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Poland looked out from the ninth story window. The White House was in sight, and Alfred F. Jones had just been sworn in as President. He picked up his phone and punched in a number to an encrypted line.

"Like, Liet," he said smugly, "the board is set up. Operation Russian Roulette can commence on Boss's call. Get out of that damned meeting already.

He looked out at the White House one more time. He had heard that it was finally open to the public. If everything goes according to plan, the public really should hurry and see this international icon. It only had a few more months to stand…

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"China, CHINA!" the Asian man shrieked.

"What the hell do you want, aru," the middle-aged Mafia boss complained. He winced at the accent, something he thought he got rid of years ago.

When he had planned for the seven most powerful Mafia members in the Asian sect to live under one roof, he hadn't made too many allowances for personality. The socially awkward Asian forgot that girls have a special time of month when you don't touch their cherry cheesecakes without risking life and limb. He also forgot that there was this little thing called a "sex drive." After having to survive three sleepless nights, he finally banned intercourse in the deserted garage at night, because the room dividers simply didn't block out the sounds properly.

"We're out of toilet paper and milk again," Im Yong Soo complained. The former South Korean personification had been in a horrifying accident after the continents collided that wiped his memory. China had sent him to some orphanage, and he was eventually adopted by some rich, childless couple. He had grown up in the lap of luxury, not knowing that he had a twin. But fate had its ways. The softened nation had accidentally run into his brother at a Mexican restaurant. There, North Korea was waiting tables, eavesdropping on those in politically high places. The two experienced a connection, and all of his memories were restored in an instant. However, he was still sort of bratty and luxurious, but a few months under the same roof with others would harden him.

Wang Yao simply said, "Then go buy some at the 24-hour market down the way." Im Yong Soo pouted childishly, but he left anyways. The Mafioso was actually kind of happy to leave the compound. This was the first time he had spent time with his brother, and frankly, he was already sick of him. There was nothing wrong with North Korea. Im Yong Soo didn't mind that he had the mafia values drilled into him. What pissed him off was that Taiwan, the seducing spy. North Korea couldn't resist a flirt like her, so every time she pulled his ponytail or twirled the edge of his sash, he fell for her all over again.

Thailand was already leaning against the one car owned by the Asians. He grinned flashily at South Korea. How the bodyguard knew that he was coming was a mystery. Then again, it's probably because he is as "noisy as an American," whatever that means.

"Mini-mart," Im Yong Soo snapped at Thailand. The Asian said nothing, just started the engine.

The shopping trip was uneventful, but on the way back, South Korea noted the sign outside the car dealership. "Damn," he said, "China's gonna be pissed."

China was indeed pissed. Vietnam had just drunk the last reserves of his mango juice. He had even posted a sticky note on it that read "KEEP AWAY"; wasn't the message clear enough? The South Korean heard the Chinese rant as soon as he got within one hundred meters of his boss.

"Crap," he said. Swallowing all his fears, he approached the yelling Chinaman.

"It better be important, Im Yong," he said threateningly. "If you are going to complain, I suggest that you leave right now. I'm in no mood to be fucked with."

Swallowing once more, he said, "The sign in front of the dealership."

"So?"

"It's yellow."

"You're shitting me," the Mafia boss grumbled.

"I wish," the South Korean sighed.

"Well," the Chinese man said, "looks like those vodka-drinking shits want to fuck with the government. We can't have that," he paused. "That's our job. South Korea, wake your brother up. Show those bad-mannered pussies what happens when you mess with the _dāopiàn biànyuàn_."

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"France here," the blonde man said, flipping open his cell phone. The bad-tempered Brit across the meeting table glared at him. France rolled his eyes and gave him a suggestive look. Even though he never said it, Francis Bonnefoy was _positive_ that Arthur Kirkland was after his vital regions. Even when they were still countries, the Englishman would take any opportunity to pick a fight. _All to get my attention_ he mused.

"It's me again," the soft voice murmured on the other side.

"Ah, _mon ami_, how's life with those evil son-of-a-bitches? You sure that you don't wanna play with the Euros? They all miss you," he added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I know you're waggling those eyebrows of yours, Francis," the voice on the other side of the line said.

The Frenchman laughed, "Oh, you know me too well. So what's up?"

"I'm in."

"Pardon?"

"Al picked me to be his vice."

"No shit!"

"Why would I lie about this?"

"Well, well, looks like staying clean paid off. I'm reporting this to the boss. Keep us off the record, clear."

"Crystal," the other voice said icily. The line went dead on France's line before he hung up.

"Well?"

"He's in, Romano," France said. "Operation Maple can begin on your call."

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AN: Leave a comment, possibly with an OC. If they are worthy, they may amount to become a powerful force in the Underground…


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